


The Parting Glass

by dreamergirl090



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Remembrance Day, Veteran's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:05:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamergirl090/pseuds/dreamergirl090
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson never forgets the ones he served with. They were his friends. They were his brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Parting Glass

Clear your throat.

“Sherlock, I’m going out.”

He’s looking at you. He’s deducing you with those eyes. _Not today, Sherlock. Not today. Delete what today is._

“Fine.” Eyes break away.  “I have to organize my mind palace anyway.”

 _Thank you_. “Great. See you later.”

Nod. Down the stairs. Leave 221B. Close door behind you. Take a cab. Deep breaths.

Silence.

Silence.

Pay the cabby. Get out. Find the grave. Shoulders back. Stand Up Straight. Remember. 

****

**_Gavin Stevens_ **

****

_“John, that was such a shit kick!”_

_“Doc, am I doing this right?”_

_“The stars are so bright out here.”_

_“John, I think I’m dying…”_

Salute. Remember.

Walk down a few gravestones. Repeat. Shoulders back. Stand up straight. Take a Deep breath. Remember.

**_Christian Bush_ **

_“Mary didn’t want me to come.”_

_“God, I could really do for a fag.”_

_“Any packages today? No? You sure? Mary promised me some of her cookies.”_

_“Mary was right. I s-should’ve never come here.”_

Salute. Remember. One more to go. You can do this.

****

**_Kelly  Swallow_ **

_“John, my hands are shaking. Do you have any pills for that?”_

_“Did Manchester win today? Does anybody know if they did? Guys, c’mon! I need to know!”_

_“I wish the war was in the jungle. I hate the sand.”_

_“You lucky sod, getting shot in the shoulder. Tell the mates I’ll be back soon. Save me a pint.”_

Salute. Remember.

Walk back. Call for cab. Wait.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Cab arrives. Tell address. 

“314 Gower Street.”

Silence. Pay. Get out. Open Door. 

It’s so very noisy. The match is on. Everyone is wearing poppies. Keep eyes forward soldier.

“Just a pint of whatever you have on tap.”

Sit. Relax. Drink.

“You need one?”

Blink. Focus.  “What?”

“A poppy. Don’t see you with one.”

Blink again. “I – have one.” _I wear it on my heart every day._

The man is staring at you. Say something.

“It’s-”

A voice interrupts you.

 _“It’s_ underneath _his_ jacket.”

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock materializes in front of the bar, unwinding his scarf from his neck and says to the man. “Give me whatever he’s having. Don’t you dare ask me where mine is. Don’t worry. I have one.”

The bartender looks at you and the man suspiciously, but goes to get Sherlock a pint.

“So who’s playing?” Sherlock ask. He sounds very odd, asking about the match and getting a drink. _He didn’t delete what today is._

He’s looking at you. Play along. Look at the television. There it is. Straight in front of you.

“C-Chelsea vs. Manchester.” Gesture to the television. Sherlock nods as the bartender returns with his beer.  He takes a sip and grimaces, but continues to drink it.  He chats about the latest case.

_Thank you._

The sounds of the match are not so loud; they are now mixing in with his voice.

Raise your glass,

Take a sip.

 

x-x-x

_So fill to me the parting glass._

_Good night and joy be with you all._

 

 

 

 


End file.
